The Dark Side of the Moon
by Nogard
Summary: An alternate ending to the episode Who's Afraid of Cory Wolf?, in which Cory really is a werewolf.
1. Chapter 1

"Promise me, Shawn," he begged. "Swear by everything holy that you'll keep that poor innocent girl safe from a terrible…" He realized to his horror that Topanga had entered the room. "Hi, Topanga," he muttered quickly to her, before turning to Shawn with a fearful yelp. _Please, Shawn,_ he begged silently. _Save her from the beast I feel inside of me._

But to his despair, his best friend simply walked out of the room. "I'll just leave you two alone," he said with a smile. "Have a good time." He let out a mocking howl and was gone, door shut behind him.

_Shawnie!_ He silently screamed for his best friend to return, but of course he did not. Instead, he found himself face to face with the girl he knew he would kill tonight. She looked beautiful too, something that made his upcoming crime seem all the more cruel.

"Hi, Cory," Topanga greeted him innocently.

"Topanga, I warned you not to…" he broke off as he took in her outfit. She wore a pretty pink princess dress – the perfect victim for a werewolf! "Oh, boy, why'd you have to wear that?" he asked, backing away as he felt his wolfish desires flare up. _Why did Shawn leave?_ he cried to himself. _Is this how he treats his best friend!_

"Because I'm a damsel," she stated matter-of-factly. "But _not_ the distressed kind. One who's very together and in _complete_ control of her own destiny."

He nodded absently. "Great. Look, I think you're a terrific person, I like you a whole lot, and I never want to see you again." He stepped over to the window and peered up at the moon. _It looks nearly full…_

"But Cory," Topanga said from behind him, "I don't understand!"

He quickly walked over to his desk, and grabbed the journal. Handing it to her, he started nudging her over to the door. "Listen, everything you need to know is in here. If it's ever published, I'd like the royalties to go to the ASPCA. Now, out, out!"

Not understanding, Topanga simply set the journal on his bed. "But, Cory–" she started to say.

"Topanga," he interrupted her, franticly trying to explain. "I'm not like the other guys. I've got… needs and desires, and I'm not sure I can control them!" He nervously glanced out the window, and gaped in horror. "The moon!"

_When the moon is full,_ the old fortune teller's voice echoed in his head, _you will kill the one who cares for you! _"Alright, you gotta go! Please get out before it's too late!" He pushed her over to the door. He gave the clock a quick look, and was relieved to find it still 8:59. But then, to his abject fear, the clock blinked to 9:00!

"It's too late!"

----

In the Matthews' living room, Shawn helped himself to candy from the large bowl provided for the trick-or-treaters. _I think I like the Reese's best,_ he thought to himself as he waited for his friends to come down. Cory's delusion had amused him at first, but now he worried about his friend. Cory really seemed convinced he was cursed to kill Topanga.

He had decided to leave Cory and Topanga alone together in the hope that Cory would overcome his fear, and realize that the 'werewolf' urges were just part of being a teenager. _As _ _9:00__ comes and passes, he'll calm down and we can go enjoy the party,_ he thought. _Cory can handle it._ He reached for a Nutragous.

As he began to tear off the wrapper, he heard a girl scream at the top of her lungs. Realizing it had come from upstairs, he dropped the candy bar and automatically rushed toward the source. He hesitated when he reached the door leading to Cory's room, before opening the door and stepping inside.

His first thought was one of revulsion, but it soon changed to pure horror. On the floor in front of him, lay the gruesome remains of what was once Topanga Lawrence. Shawn turned away from the mutilated corpse, fighting to keep his food in his stomach. He froze as he saw a dark form crouched nearby; it had a humanoid appearance, yet was more covered with hair than his Aunt Delilah. The head was pointed, like that of a dog, and possessed fierce yellow eyes. "Cory?" he asked tentatively.

"_Shawnie…_" The werewolf growled, dark liquid dripping from his muzzle. He glared at Shawn, and began to approach him slowly.

_My, what big teeth you have!_ "Cory," he began nervously, "You remember me, don't you? We're best friends. You wouldn't hurt your best friend, would you?" With a snarl, Cory crouched as if preparing to lunge upon him. Shawn closed his eyes, waiting for death. Suddenly, from outside the room, he heard someone coming.

"Is everything okay?" Mrs. Matthews called.

He opened his eyes in time to see a dark blur vanish through the window. He then turned to see Cory's mother staring at the body with terror.

"Oh my God," she whispered, her face turning white. "Shawn!" Her voice rose into a shriek. "_What happened?_" she screamed.

_There's no way she'd believe the truth…_ "There was a man," he lied, the words spilling out easily. _I am, after all, a master liar,_ he thought bitterly. "He killed Topanga and kidnapped Cory."

"My baby…?" her voice trembled, and for a moment, Shawn thought she might faint on the spot. But then, she managed to recover her focus. "We need to call the police! Shawn, don't leave my side."

"No problem," he agreed quietly. But before following her down the stairs, he grabbed the journal Cory had written before his transformation. If anything could help him understand this, it would be his own words. _Oh God, Cory…_


	2. Chapter 2

Shawn sighed. After securing the house, the cops had brought both him and the Matthews' to the police station and had questioned him thoroughly. Remembering a piece of advice his Uncle Mike had told him, he took care to keep his story straight. Yet, he also remembered his Aunt Lorena telling him to be a little vague and let them fill in the details themselves. "Then, I opened the door," he had told them, "I saw… Topanga there. And then, I saw a man in the room, holding Cory. No, officer, he wore a mask. …A werewolf mask. I was too scared to move, and I closed my eyes, and then when I opened them again, they were gone. No, no visible weapons. Well, he wasn't that tall, but he wasn't short either. Um, not skinny, but not fat… I'm not even sure it was a guy. I mean, it just happened so fast." He hoped by giving a vague description of the 'killer,' he could avoid putting an innocent man in jail.

Finally, the police left him alone to rest. The accommodations were much better than he had feared, a couch in a private room rather than a bench in a cell. While he hadn't committed any crime, he knew how infamous his family was, and had been afraid the cops would have marked him as a suspect.

Fortunately, they had let him keep his coat, in which he had placed Cory's journal. Now seemed like as good a time as any, so he took out the book and opened it up. Taking a deep breath, he began to read: _October 31st, All Hallow's Eve. I, Cory Matthews, leave this journal so that those who knew me can understand my terrible fate. For tonight, at precisely __nine o'clock__, eight central, when the moon shines full, I will become the most terrifying of all creatures: the Werewolf._

He looked away from the book, suddenly experiencing an explosion of emotions that he didn't understand how to deal with. Fear, extreme fear, filled him as he cried tears of sadness. He cried for Topanga, ripped apart by a monstrous creature he knew to be his best friend. He cried with fear, as he knew that his best friend had tried to kill him too. He cried for the Matthews', who would likely never recover from this tragedy. He cried for himself, for he had lost the one person he could trust to an evil curse. But still, he cried for Cory, a wonderful friend who had been turned into a vicious killer.

"Oh, I know, honey," his mother's voice said from the doorway. She walked over and hugged him tightly, "This is just awful!"

"Mom?" he asked in surprise. _Of course! The cops would have called my parents,_ he realized. He shut the book and set it beside him. "Is dad here?"

It came as a disappointment when she shook her head no, "He's off making some business deal."

"Yeah, of course he is," he agreed. _More like playing poker for cash._

"Don't you worry about this killer," she told him, still hugging him tightly. "I called your Uncle Mike and…" She lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning over to his ear, "We've put the family on alert. That killer won't last another week in Philly."

"That's great," he lied, sighing in despair. _Now either Cory or my relatives will be killed._ Perhaps it was for the best that Cory died… _Except that I'm the only one who knows he's a werewolf,_ he realized. His family would be massacred without silver bullets, and he was pretty sure none of his relatives loved Cory. "I'd like to see Uncle Mike," he said, trying to keep his voice free of the urgency he felt.

"In the morning, honey," his mom told him. "The police will let us stay overnight. Frankly, son, I feel safer here…"

"I understand, mom," he said. Life in the trailer park could be rough, and he knew his mom sometimes didn't feel comfortable being married into a family of criminals. Still, for the most part, Hunters did look out for one another. He was sure his mother's call would be answered with speed. …But there _was_ someone else who did know what Cory was, he realized.

----

Shivering in a cold wind, Cory blinked his eyes sleepily. _Why didn't my alarm wake me up?_ Suddenly he realized he was outside, laying in the dirt. He looked around to find he was at the drive-in theater, closed until 9:00pm. Looking down at himself, he gasped in fear, realizing he was naked and covered in dried blood. _What the hell happened last night? _he wondered frantically.

"Okay, Cory, what's the last thing you can remember?" he asked himself, trying to stay calm. _The wolf bite._ He clearly remembered the large furry animal springing from the bushes to clamp down on his wrist. He felt a twinge of pain as he thought about it, but when he looked at his arm, he found he couldn't find the mark.

_And then…?_ Later Eric had teased him about it, implying… something… He frowned; as hard as he tried to remember, many of his memories seemed hidden by a deep fog. Later, though, he remembered being furious with Shawn for some reason. He had a sudden, startling thought: _Could Shawnie have… beaten me up and left me here?_ It was an incredible notion, and he would have dismissed it at once were it not for the memory of his murderous rage. _If he had done something… bad… and we fought, then… maybe._

_But what could he have done to cause such a thing?_ He tried hard to remember anything else from that night. A image came into his head: Topanga, looking more attractive than he had ever seen a girl be. He focused on the image, trying to bring out more details. _She wore a dress – no, it was a Halloween costume… and she was confused, and then…_ Suddenly, he remembered Topanga's face with a look of pure terror written on her features.

He shivered again, knowing it was not just from the cold. _What could have made her look like that…?_ He went back to his earlier rage at Shawn. _If Shawn had tried to maybe… take advantage of her, it would explain why I was so angry and why we fought._ However, it did not explain why Shawn's behavior would alter so radically. _Unless he was on some kind of drugs…_ Was it possible? He knew the Hunter family was rather lax about obeying the law. _Because it was a holiday, maybe one of Shawn's many law-evading uncles got him alcohol as a gift?_ That could explain Shawn's behavior… if that's even what happened.

He shook his head. Whatever had happened, he knew he had to find shelter before he either caught pneumonia or was caught naked. If he knew his geography correctly, the Pink Flamingo Trailer Park was right next to the drive-in. _I'll visit the Hunters and get some help, and if Shawn's there and hates me… I'll deal with it then._

He stood up and stretched, shivering in the cold air. Carefully watching his step, as to not tread on any shards of beer bottles brought to the drive-in, he made his way over to the chain link fence. Unfortunately, there appeared to be barbed wire spanning the top. Rubbing his arms and legs to keep warm, he ran through his list of options. Deciding to look for a pay phone so he could call 911, he began walking toward the restrooms/snack bar.

Again, he took care to protect his bare feet, inspecting every step before taking it. He noticed a sharp piece of metal wire, and followed it with his eyes to a section of fencing that had been torn down forcefully. _Well, that solves that problem,_ he supposed, walking toward the gap. Careful to not let the upturned fence scratch his legs, he slowly squeezed through the opening. Just as he had made it through, he noticed a tuft of grey fur caught on the wire. _The wolf!_

Knowing that the escaped wolf had come this way made him jittery with fear. In fact, it was possible that it was the wolf itself that brought down the fence! _No, that's silly, _he chided himself. _No wolf could be that strong._ But the mental image of a giant wolf smashing down a metal fence to get to him chilled him to his bones. _Or maybe that's just the cold._ Wrapping his arms around his body, he hurried toward the trailer park.

Fortunately, he managed to get to Shawn's trailer unseen. Rubbing his sides to stay warm, he rapped on the door, and then used both hands to hide his private parts. After a moment, the door was opened by Chet Hunter. "Uh, hi, Mr. Hunter," he started to say nervously.

"What in the hell are you up to, boy?!" Chet interrupted. "A Pennsylvania winter is no decent time to go streaking! Get in here at once before you freeze yourself to death!"

"Thanks, Mr. Hunter," he said politely as he hurried inside the trailer. Chet gave him a set of Shawn's clothes that fit, a blanket, and made coffee for the two of them. The room-temperature trailer felt really hot at first, a sign of just how cold he really was, but it gradually cooled down over time. The coffee helped too, warming him up from the inside.

As soon as he was comfortable speaking, Chet began asking him questions. He answered them to the best of his ability, explaining his blackout, although he left out some of the parts about Shawn. "So then I figured I'd come here," he finished.

"Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you like…" Chet paused. "It's Corky, right?"

"Cory," he corrected. "Thank you, Mr. Hunter, but I think I'd better get to school."

"Ah, c'mon," Chet pressed. "Every now and then, you have to break the rules, right? I could tell you about the time I bought a small country in the Middle East…"

"Well," he said, charmed by the man's personality, "I guess missing one day wouldn't hurt."

"Hey, alright," Chet smiled, before launching into his story.

It was full of fantastic elements, improbable situations, and a few erotic elements that made him blush. The man was a terrific storyteller, though, and Cory was loving this chance to get to know Shawn's father. He had just gotten to a part about him outsmarting international jewel thieves, when there was a knock at the door.

"Uh, hold on to that thought," Chet said, walking over to the door. After peeking through the blinds, he let in a very large man, who looked like a combination of Harley and Frankie.

While Cory let loose another one of his many shivers that day, the man spoke with Chet. "There's been a death in the family," he reported solemnly. "Sal was mauled last night. Looks to be the wolf."

Chet sighed, his face becoming stiff in the way men who don't like to show emotion do. "Well, that is quite a shame. Sal was a good man, a good brother." He looked at Cory, "Never let it be said that Sal didn't lead a good life…" He gestured at the large man, "This is my brother Mike. Mike, this is a friend of Shawn's…"

"Cory Matthews," he supplied. "Hi, it's nice to meet you."

But Mike turned and whispered something in Chet's ear. "Hm," Chet grunted. "Excuse us, Cory. Mike and I need to talk in private."

"Uh, okay," he said, as they stepped outside. _I wonder what they need to talk about? Funeral arrangements?_ After a few minutes of waiting, he decided to turn on a nearby radio. It was set on an oldies station, playing the kind of stuff his parents liked to listen to. He considered changing the station, but decided not to tinker with his host's settings. He hummed along to Garfunkel's _All I Know_ while waiting.

He thought about what Mike had said, about their brother having been mauled by the wolf. It truly frightened him just how dangerous that wolf was. He remembered the fence, how it seemed as though the wolf had smashed it down to get in the drive-in… where he was. His mind went to (of all things) the worst of the Jaws sequels, in which the shark followed the main guy halfway around the world to get to him.

_Is that what's happening? Did the wolf break down a fence to get to me?_ He shook his head at what was clearly nonsense to his rational mind. _Man, poor Chet, _he thought instead. _I wonder what Shawn will think when he hears his uncle died?_ Shawn. It came back to him, the horrible memory he had pushed aside. _What happened between us to make me so angry at him?_

Then, rather inappropriately, Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs' _Lil' Red Riding Hood_ came on after _All I Know_. Starting off the song with a wolf howl, the radio began playing the racy take on the children's story:

_What's that I see walkin' in these woods?  
Why, it's Little Red Riding Hood.  
Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood,  
You sure are lookin' good,  
You're everything a big, bad wolf could want… _

Cory found the song greatly disturbing, and not just because of Sal's recent death, or the idea that the wolf was hunting him. There was something else about it, something in the back of his mind along with the faded memories of last night. _Okay, focus, Cory,_ he told himself. _Ignore the song, just think about what could have happened with Shawn._

As he listened to the lyrics in the background, he suddenly had a flashback. First was Topanga, looking beautiful; then she stared at him with concern; then she looked at him with pure terror; then… what remained of her face stared at the lacerations spanning her torso; and finally, he remembered burying his face in her bleeding throat, letting the blood run down his chin…

_Little Red Riding Hood,  
You sure are lookin' good,  
You're everything a big, bad wolf could want… _

Blood; he could feel it. Blood streaming over his body, into his mouth. Warm, metallic, it was the greatest taste in years, but he knew the real treat was underneath it. Under the blood was the meat, similar to bacon but tangier. Human meat; Topanga's meat!

He grabbed the radio and threw it across the room, silencing its noise. _Oh my God,_ he thought, disgusted and terrified at what just happened. _What the hell was THAT?_ He had no answer. "It's okay," he said, trying to calm down. "Just a cannibalism daydream. I'm sure everyone…" _Oh, who am I kidding? That was psychotic, like something out of a horror movie._ He thought about the dried blood that caked his body. _It's not possible…_

The door opened and Chet walked back inside, looking much more upset than earlier. "Cory, sit down," he said seriously, and Cory sat back down at once. "Cory, I'm not going to lie to you. Some very serious things have happened, and I think it's best you know everything." He paused, and looked him in the eye, "Last night, a girl named Topanga Lawrence was brutally murdered in your bedroom. My son Shawn told the cops he saw a man come in your room, kill the girl and kidnap you."

_A kidnapping?_ He could not remember anything like that, but perhaps that did explain the freaky daydream. His mind could have substituted himself for the killer as a way to deal with the trauma, or something like that. "I… think I might remember some of that," he said.

Chet eyed him, "Which part?"

"Uh, I remember…" Cory paused, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him look like a total psycho. "I remember Topanga with these nasty cuts all over her body, and then… dead."

"Nothing of the killer?" he prodded.

"Uh, no," he half-lied. _No, I told the truth,_ he corrected himself. _I did not kill her, there's no way I could have…_ A sudden memory of a woman's voice played through his head: _You will kill the one girl who cares for you…_ He shook his head. _That's impossible. I don't even know who that was…_ He noticed Chet was watching his expression carefully.

"I see," he grunted, clearly aware he was leaving something out. "The cops haven't yet found any sign of forced entry, or any sign of anyone else being there in the room with you. Now, you found running around the trailer park in the bare, all covered with blood, and with no memory of such a killer…"

"Are… Are you saying I killed her?" Cory asked, stumbling over voicing the idea that had troubled him the past few minutes.

"Well, it certainly looks suspicious," Chet said, avoiding the question directly. "And it seems my wife Verna has put out an alert within the family to track down this killer and… bring him to justice."

"You do think I killed her," he realized, almost finding it humorous. Almost, if it wasn't so terrifying.

"Whether you did or not, I think it's best if you stay here for a while," Chet said carefully. His expression then brightened, and he began to speak as though he were discussing a normal sleep-over, "Well, you can sleep in Shawn's room! And tonight, I'll make us my famous Pink Flamingo fish-sticks while I tell you all about my adventures in the South Pacific. I tell you, that tiki market is God's gift to man!"

"Oh, okay…" Cory said slowly. _Perhaps that's for the best. I'll stay here where the Hunters can see me, and when the kidnapper is found it will be clear I'm innocent._ "I'll just call my parents and let them know I'm alright." He stepped over to the phone, only to be blocked by Chet.

"Um," he said, putting his strong hand over the receiver. "Cory, I'm afraid that won't be possible at the moment, so… why don't you sit down and I'll tell you about how I came up with Star Trek?"

"Why not?" he asked, ignoring the offer. He thought about what his parents must be thinking by now. "I'm sure they're worried about me."

"Us Hunters are a shady bunch," Chet stated, looking at him seriously. "We're constantly being watched by the feds, and arrests around here are as common as twisters. I wanted my Shawn to be kept separate from all of that, but this here murder stands as a threat to my hopes for him. If the cops come to the conclusion that you're the killer, whether right or wrong, my boy will be an accomplice in their eyes… He'll go to jail… Which is why you're stayin' here 'til we can figure out who did it."


	3. Chapter 3

"Mr. Hunter, I would like to express my greatest sympathies that you had to go through such a tragic event. If you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open."

Shawn and his mother had stayed at the police station overnight, but today she had decided that it was best he went to school as normal. The cops had agreed to let him go, but Shawn noted the presence of a cop car on the street outside. Whether he had been instructed by the cops or just acting on his own morals, Feeny had taken it upon himself to escort him to class; he had never seen the old principal's face look so sad.

"Thanks, Mr. Feeny," he acknowledged. Feeling the urge to say something, anything, to make Feeny's sadness go away, he mustered a smile and said, "Don't worry, I'm sure the cops 'll catch whoever did it."

"I'm sure they will, Mr. Hunter," Feeny nodded, his face halfway between a smile and a grimace. "But, you know, they cannot truly repair the damage done last night."

"Yeah," he agreed. _Topanga will always be dead._ "I understand, Mr. Feeny."

Feeny took in a breath, sighed, nodded, and repeated, "Any time you want to talk, Mr. Hunter…" He opened the door to his classroom, and let Shawn inside.

Feeling very surreal, he quickly got to his desk and sat down. Both Cory and Topanga's empty desks stood out prominently, and he got the chills just looking at them. Feeny's lecture went by in a blur, and he paid even less attention than he normally did.

It wasn't even boredom that stopped him from listening – he was actually halfway interested in it. Anything to get his mind off _that_ would have been appreciated. But every time he tried to listen to Feeny go on about the Queen of something or other, he felt as though his entire body was under a spotlight, a blinding _white_ that pierced his bones and flooded throughout him. Then Feeny left, and Turner came in to teach his class.

Eventually the bell rang, and Shawn hurried as usual to get out of class. This time, however, he had nothing to look forward to. Usually he would hang out with Cory or grab a girl for a quick make-out session, but now Cory was… missing, and he just wasn't in the kissing mood for once.

"Hey, Shawn," Rosie Beaumont said as he trudged his way through the halls.

"Hey, Rosie," he greeted. "Listen, now's not the best time…" he began, assuming she wanted them to fall in love for a few minutes.

However, she interrupted him, "I just want to know if it's true. Did you really see that girl Topanga get murdered and your friend kidnapped?"

Stunned, he found himself unable to speak.

"Oh my God," she gasped, reading the look on his face. "Oh, Shawn, I'm so sorry…"

"Thanks," he muttered as she went on.

"…I mean, she was always a bit of a weirdo (what kind of name is Topanga, anyway?), but she didn't deserve _that_."

"Yeah…" Shawn mumbled. "Listen, Rosie, Cory and Topanga are…" Were? "…my friends. I just don't feel comfortable taking about this right now."

"Oh right," she said, comprehension dawning on her face. "I'll see you later, then?"

"Yeah, later," he agreed, watching her head for the girl's bathroom. _Eager to tell all she got from me,_ he supposed. Not that he had told anyone anywhere near the truth.

_Damn it, I can't just sit here and lie._ He had to do _something_ constructive while it was still not a full moon and Cory could still be found. He fished through his pockets for change and approached the payphones. It was time he explained to his family exactly what was going on.

----

Chet sighed as he opened another beer. He knew he needed to be careful how much he drank these days, but these were extraordinary circumstances. After all, it wasn't every day that your boy witnessed a murder and then told an incredibly shaky story. _Damn it! That kid spends so much time procrastinating in school, I thought he'd at least become efficient at evading the law._

Not that he wanted his boy to take up the family business. _But would it kill him to get some street smarts? Jesus!_ Shawn couldn't expect to just ride through life on his family's goodwill; he could barely sneak by the Pink Flamingo bear!

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp tap at the door. _That'll be Mike,_ he recognized the knock. He walked over and opened the door to see his brother holding out a copy of the local newspaper.

"You see the _Times_?" Mike asked.

Chet grabbed the paper and read the headline: _Hunter Boy Murders?_ Beneath the title was a photo of Shawn and Cory making goofy poses in front of some kind of tree-house, and was at least a year old. "Where did this picture come from?" he asked distractedly.

"I'm not sure," Mike answered. "I could find out, if you like."

"It's not important," he said. He briefly scanned the article. _Girl dead, Cory missing, Shawn only witness…_ Seeing that it contained nothing he didn't already know, he looked back up at Mike and said, "Stop the _Times_ from talking about it. Hunter family orders. Destroy all the copies you can find."

Mike nodded. "If you're done with the article, could we destroy it now? I skipped breakfast."

"Oh, sure," he agreed, ripping the funnies out for himself and handing the rest over.

"Thanks, Chet," Mike accepted the paper. "I'll get started on that right away," he said and then left, nibbling on a corner.

Chet shut the door and glanced at the comics: bad rip-offs of _Peanuts_. This time, Snuppi was an astronaut in space. He left the comics on the counter and took another swig from his bottle. This was getting out of hand.

He could only hope Mike could control the flow of information before it attracted federal attention. All members of the Pink Flamingo community knew about the darkened van in the parking lot. It sat there day in and day out, feds entering and exiting it in civilian gear. Despite its presence, the feds had not yet bothered anyone, and no one wanted that to change.

The phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He rushed over and grabbed it before Cory heard and got any ideas. "Hello?" he asked gruffly.

_"Dad?"_ Shawn's voice came through the receiver.

He almost dropped it in surprise. "Shawn?" He squinted at his watch, which he hadn't set in years, and hastily translated from Pacific time. "You should be in school!" This was bad. Shawn shouldn't be doing anything delinquent now of all times!

_"It's just after second period, dad,"_ Shawn said, sounding annoyed. _"Listen, I have to tell you something important. It's about Cory…"_

_God damn it, he should know the phones aren't secure!_ "Not now, Shawn," he snapped. "You can tell me your story after school."

_Dad, you've got to listen to me,"_ Shawn insisted. _"Look, two days ago, Cory was bitten by a wolf and now every full moon he transforms into a blood-sucking demon of the night!"_

He paused to let that sink in before answering. _Blood-sucking? Isn't that a vampire, not a werewolf?_ Inconsistencies aside, this was possibly Shawn's attempt to sneak information through. Was this Shawn's way of saying that Cory was the murderer, as he had hoped? If that was the case, he couldn't let the feds realize what was going on. "Son, that is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard," he snapped. "Now put the phone down and get to class."

_"I'm telling you,"_ Shawn's voice came out panicked, _"It's what's really happening!"_

"Son, you just do your schoolwork," he growled. "That's an order!" He hung up before Shawn could get another word in, and sighed. Once again, Shawn had disappointed him today. _If you're going to tell a tall tale, you have to keep an element of realism. God damn it, haven't I taught that boy anything?_

He looked up as Cory exited the bedroom and headed for the bathroom, raising a hand to wave when he saw Chet was watching.

----

Cory shut the bathroom door and slid the bolt shut. This small, cramped, smelly room was the one part of the trailer to which he could escape. Chet's crazy stories had considerably lost their charm after he was effectively kidnapped by the Hunter clan. Even when he went to Shawn's room he could hear Chet just outside the door, and he could swear he saw glimpses of Shawn's shifty Uncle Mike in the window.

No, the bathroom was the only place he could have any privacy and he needed some time to think. Shutting the toilet lid, he sat down and rubbed his eyes. _Okay, Cory,_ he addressed himself, _All you need to do is remember what the killer looks like. Then you can tell Chet, and neither of us will be locked up._

"Okay," he whispered, trying to focus on last night. Remembering how the song had triggered his crazed killer vision, he began to quietly sing what lyrics he remembered to himself. He remembered the horrible sight of Topanga, and an even more horrible hunger within him.

He shook his head. _You are not the killer!_ He tried to figure out who was, tried to look at himself in his mind. Abruptly, his gaze became third-person and he saw Topanga as she was being mauled by… the wolf.

"No," he sighed. _My imagination's screwing it up!_ He was not the killer, only projecting himself in the killer's place for some reason. And the killer was certainly not the wolf either. Clearly he was substituting the wolf in the killer's place because he was afraid of them both. _And maybe because you're singing about a wolf wanting to eat a girl?_

"Shut up, me," he muttered, examining the area where he was sure the wolf had bitten him. _Not even a scratch…_ He dropped his arm and got back to business. _Okay, we've got the killer and Topanga, I assume I'm somewhere in there, too… Where's Shawn?_

Thinking about Shawn made him tingle with the ghost of extreme rage. _Alright, what happened with Shawn?_ he demandedhimself. _What the hell could Shawn have done that was so bad for me to get so angry with him?_ He flashed back to Topanga's mutilated corpse.

_No,_ he told himself sternly even as he wondered if Shawn may have been involved with the murder. _Shawn couldn't! We're best friends, I'd know if he were a murderer!_ Even as he internally defended his friend, he couldn't help but think of all the members of the Hunter family who were criminals.

_"Get me Frankie Two Toes," Shawn had said on the phone last year as he was trying to get into contact with his Uncle Frank. _

_"Frankie… Why do you call him that?" he had asked, utterly bemused. _

_"Well, I could tell you… but then I'd have to kill you," Shawn had answered._

Cory hadn't been sure if he was joking back then, and still wasn't sure of it now. _Was he serious? Could he have threatened to kill me?_ "Not Shawn," he told himself, even as doubt trickled through his mind.

_We're best friends!_ Even if Shawn was some kind of brutal killer, he would never ever want to jeopardize their friendship. _What, so you now think he could be a killer, but that he wouldn't kill your girlfriend?_ Not that Topanga was his girlfriend.

He shook his head again. He would get nowhere by speculating; he needed to remember. _That didn't work right,_ he reminded himself._ The song…_ "I don't need the song," he muttered. "I just need to relax."

But before he could even think about relaxing, he needed to clean off all the blood. He stripped off his clothes and entered the small shower unit. Unfortunately, it seemed the hot water wasn't working, and he had to endure the biting cold once more.

He hurriedly rubbed at the blood, trying to get it off as soon as possible. Yet, somehow, the magnified tension caused him to remember something more: Shawn giving a mocking howl, like a wolf; and the sense of utter betrayal. _Shawn did betray me…_ Still, that didn't mean he killed anyone.

_Let's look at the facts,_ his inner voice taunted him. _Chet locked you in his trailer to stop Shawn from going to jail. What sense does that make unless either you or Shawn were guilty?_ Well, weird hallucinations aside, Cory was (pretty) certain he hadn't transformed into a killer overnight, so…

"Shawn killed Topanga," he gasped, his warm tears mixing with the cold water.

----

Shawn practically screamed with frustration as he slammed the receiver down, causing the students in the hallway to look at him and whisper to each other. He ignored them and silently ranted, _He dares to call MY story crap? He mixes lies into everything he says, and he thinks I'M lying?!_ He ignored how strange the story was for the moment.

"I believe I detect a slight hint of animosity."

_Oh God, not now._ "Harley," he acknowledged. He turned to face the bully and saw he had brought his posse with him, "Frankie, Joey."

"I have heard about your recent confrontation with a nefarious person of a dissolute nature and would like to extend my utmost sympathies," Harley stated.

"Thanks, Harley," he said cautiously. "That's… nice of you to say." _And?_

"However," Harley went on, "I find myself somewhat confused as to why you would attempt to pass the blame onto your friend when I have previously observed you two engaging in what I believed was a true friendship. Ain't that right, Joey?"

"Oh, yeah," Joey agreed, hyper as usual. "Shawn and Cory, best of friends. Everyone says. Who are the most loyal friends? Cory and Shawn, that's what they say!"

"And yet," Harley broke in before Joey went on all day, "Here you are, accusing your very best friend of killing his date. Now, Frankie, does that sound like a true friendship to you?"

"To the ninth circle of Hell, the traitors are sent," Frankie replied coldly.

"I am not a traitor!" he cried, angry at their games. "Cory _did_…" he realized what he was saying and quickly lowered his voice. "That is…"

"Nah, Cory?" Harley shook his head. "A little squirrelly seventh grader? Not possible."

"He transformed…" Shawn trailed off, realizing how stupid he sounded.

"Into a werewolf?" Harley laughed, an eyebrow raised.

"Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright," Frankie said with a nod.

"What?" Harley turned to look at his lackey. "Don't tell me you believe in this stuff?"

"I believe there are greater things on this earth than most dare contemplate," Frankie answered. "I have never seen a werewolf, but then I have also never seen a polar bear."

The bell rang, and most of the students left for class. Shawn tried to follow, but found his path blocked by Joey. "So, can I go?" he asked.

"You really think he's telling the truth?" Harley asked Frankie, ignoring his question.

"The truth is always relative," Frankie said. "Now, when I was in Japan," he began, causing the other two bullies to look exasperated.

"H-hey, Frankie," Joey cut in, wearing a look on his face that said _Please, not another story about _ _Japan_. "Why don't you tell us more about the Japanese boy you snuggled up with?"

Frankie froze. "I… need some time alone," he mumbled, walking quickly over to the boy's bathroom.

"Hey, don't worry, Frankie," called a much more relaxed Joey as he ran after him. "I'm totally okay with it if you're… You know, if that's your thing." He followed Frankie inside the restroom.

Harley just stood there, gazing in the direction they left in. "And now I am alone…" He turned as if suddenly noticing Shawn. "I could kill you… but Frankie? He got me all confused." He studied him a moment. "No, I'll wait until he's on my side again. Wouldn't be near as fun. Congratulations, this is your lucky day."

Shawn hurried off down the hall, trying to remember which class was next. _Doesn't matter, does it?_ He would not get anything done today. Not at school, anyway. He went back to his locker and retrieved Cory's journal.

----

Shawn looked up from the journal to examine his surroundings. "Frank's House of Yogurt, and Some Occult," he read the sign. _Just as Cory wrote._ He stepped inside to see what appeared to be a typical yogurt store still partially decorated for Halloween. He walked over to the counter and greeted the clerk, "Hi, are you Frank?"

"Yes. Hello," the man said in a Russian accent. "Welcome to my House of Yogurt."

"Thanks," he said. "You got any Bucket of Blood?"

"Ah, strawberry. Yes," Frank said, soon handing him a bowl of yogurt.

He took a bite. _Mmm, not bad._ "Actually, I'm here to see a Madame Ouspenskaya…"

"The Madame is seeing a client," Frank cut him off. "You must wait until she is through."

"Look, this is urgent," he insisted, putting down the yogurt bowl. "It's about Cory. You saw him yesterday about changing into a wolf?"

"The young werewolf?" Frank demanded, his face becoming cold. "What has happened?"

"What's happened is…" Shawn lowered his voice, "He killed a girl we knew! Mauled her in his own room!"

"I see," Frank said after a pause. "Wait here. I will ask the Madame if you may see her."

"Thanks," Shawn sighed as the man walked into the back room. He took another bite of yogurt and carefully crept behind the counter to follow. Sliding under some tasselly things hanging from the doorway, he stopped in surprise.

There in the room were Jedidiah, Chloe and Nebula Lawrence, Topanga's family. Tears began to form in Shawn's eyes as he thought about finding Topanga's corpse. He hadn't even thought about what it must be like for them. _This can't continue,_ he thought with determination. _Cory must be stopped._

Looking away from her family, he saw a woman who he knew at once was Madame Ouspenskaya. There really was no one else who matched Cory's description of insane red hair flying all over the place. They were all gathered around a small table with a crystal ball and other objects on its face. Shawn tried to sneak closer.

"Shawn?" Jedidiah asked, noticing him approach.

"Boy," Frank said sharply, moving to kick him out, "You are to wait until you are summoned."

"It's alright, Mr. Farkas," Chloe broke in, her face streaked with tears. She smiled weakly at Shawn and said, "This day has been very hard on all of us. I expect you're here for the same reason we are."

"Uh," he paused, confused. _Do they know about Cory?_ "That depends… Why are you here?"

"Madame Ouspenskaya is the most capable medium in Philadelphia," Jedidiah explained. "If anyone here can channel my baby girl, it would be her."

"Channel?" he asked. "You mean you're gonna call Topanga's ghost?"

"Not so much call as establish a connection," Jedidiah explained, gesturing for him to join the group. "Topanga was _murdered_," he said with obvious pain. "And the killer's identity is still unknown. No, Topanga's still here, wanting to tell us who it is. She only needs us to bridge the gap between this world and the next."

"That's right," the fortune teller added. "The spirit world's been a bit noisy lately, but I'll have her here in no time."

Chloe began a long rambling sentence thanking her for helping them, practically breaking into tears. While she spoke, Nebula looked at him and narrowed her eyes. "So what _are_ you here for?" she asked.

"I, uh," Shawn stumbled. _What do I say to them?_ "I know who the killer is," he said, causing Chloe to abruptly stop talking. "It's Cory," he admitted. "Cory killed her."

"I don't believe it," Jedidiah said, his voice cold. "I've seen Topanga's body. Whoever did that had to have been twice Cory's size. At least."

"He _was_," Shawn said, but then rethought it. "That is, he was taller, but not quite that high. He was a lot stronger…"

"The boy is a werewolf," the fortune teller interrupted, getting to the point. "A wolf spirit has infested his body via bite, and now he is cursed to take on its form…"

"Hold on," Nebula cut her off. "Doesn't this seem a little far fetched to anyone here? I mean, I've conjured the odd spirit, but _werewolves_? I'm beginning to think this is some kind of scam."

"A scam?" the fortune teller asked, sounding insulted. "If I was a scam, then I wouldn't know about you sneaking out last Friday to be with Nick Kirby, would I?"

"Nebula Stop-The-War Lawrence, is this true?" Jedidiah demanded.

"I, well," Nebula stammered. She quickly changed the subject, "Cory's a werewolf? How did that happen?"

"The wolf that escaped from the zoo," Shawn said. "It bit Cory two days ago. He's written all about it," he said holding up the journal.

"You mean there's another one of those things out there?" Jedidiah asked, his voice becoming nervous.

"Maybe that's who… killed her," Chloe suggested, sounding as hopeful as someone in that situation could.

"No," he shook his head. "I saw him. It was Cory."

"Could I see that?" Jedidiah asked, holding out his hand. Shawn passed him the journal, and he and Chloe huddled close to read it together.

"Why Cory?" Nebula wondered. "I mean, if I were a werewolf and I wanted to make another werewolf, I wouldn't choose a 12-year-old boy."

"Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night," Frank spoke up, "May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright."

Shawn blinked. Was that the same thing Frankie said? _Does everyone named Frank know that poem? _

"Werewolves are creatures of passion," Madam Ouspenskaya said, giving her nephew an annoyed look; Frank went back into the yogurt shop. "They tend to act on impulse without careful regard to reason. Likely Cory just walked in his path and the werewolf decided to bite him. Now, if you're ready, I think I've located Topanga."

The Lawrences eagerly gathered around the table, Shawn joining them out of curiosity. _Will we really be able to talk to her one last time?_ Shawn tried to figure out what he would say to her, while Madame Ouspenskaya laid her hands on the crystal ball and began to chant in an unknown language.

"Gekumtu ukkoul," she cried, flicking a switch on the side of the table. Smoke began to pour from the underside of the table, but she soon started coughing and turned it off after a minute. She fanned the smoke away and resumed chanting, "Gekumtu ukkoul!"

Shawn and Nebula shared a glance. He knew they were both thinking the same thing: Was this woman really legitimate? Sure, she could make some good predictions, but he couldn't remember her ever proving that she could conjure the dead or whatever. _Frankly,_ he thought, _this whole thing seems kind of kooky. _

"Daddy," Madame O said suddenly, her voice different. It was much younger, and sounded a great deal like…

"Tippy!" Jedidiah cried, throwing himself as close as possible to Madame O's head. "Tippy, can you hear me, honey?"

"Yeah, I can hear you, Jedidiah," Topanga's voice said, her words tinged with sadness. "I can see you too."

"My baby…" Chloe whispered.

"Topanga?" Shawn asked softly, his voice barely higher than Chloe's.

"Hey, sis," Nebula said, her voice strained. "How's it going?"

"Not good, I'm afraid," Topanga said, getting down to business. "It seems my death is just the most recent of a chain of events that signify the renewed activity of earthly demons. That has made the people here _very_ anxious, what with the North Star moving into alignment after all."

"The End Times?" Jedidiah gasped.

"There's a cult that claims it can bring it forth," Topanga said grimly. "Release Hell on Earth. The few demons that remain on Earth have woken up from their slumber, and it seems their numbers are increasing…"

"Topanga," Shawn cut in, feeling he had to say something while he had the chance, "Cory told me he was a werewolf. He asked me for help, to keep you safe… It's my fault you were killed."

"No, Shawn, it's not," Topanga assured him. "Cory would have transformed whether I was there or not. If I hadn't been there, he could have killed his family instead. Remember, only one who loves a werewolf has the power to end their life. Keep them safe at all cost until their mission is complete!"

"To kill Cory," Jedidiah finished. "You're telling me that we'll have to convince his parents to kill him?"

"You'll have to convince anyone that both loves him and has the strength to take him down," Topanga explained. "His parents make an obvious choice."

"Isn't there another way?" Chloe asked. "All this death and murder cannot be good for our karma."

Topanga shook her head, or rather that of her host. "If Cory remains alive while cursed, the violent deaths will only increase. Kill Cory while you still can."

"What about the other werewolf?" Nebula asked. "If we can't kill _him_, can we trap him somehow?"

"There are some powerful charms that can bind a werewolf to his human form," Topanga admitted. "But they're very hard to come by; you won't find them in our stock. Plus, they're hardly foolproof and tend to only work when the werewolf _wants_ to stay human."

"Then Cory can still be saved," Shawn grasped onto the tiny thread of hope.

"If only that were possible," she sighed. "I'm sorry. There are… rules here. I can't give you all the answers, I can only point you in the right direction… Kill Cory. Stop the werewolf line before… before it's too late." Her, Madame O's eyes blinked rapidly.

"Tippy?" Jedidiah asked, but Topanga had vanished.

"Nope," Madame O responded. "I hope you got what you needed. Now, if you excuse me, I've got a client in an hour with a ghoul in her attic."

"Thank you so much," gushed Chloe, crying openly.

"I'm just glad I got to see my baby girl one last time," Jedidiah said, looking on the edge of tears himself.

"No problem. Glad to be of assistance. Mind if I quote you for an advertisement?" Madame O queried.

The Lawrences gave their consent, and Shawn followed them back into the restaurant. Jedidiah offered to buy Shawn some yogurt but he explained that he still had a cup of Blood left, causing them to give him a weird look. After they got some yogurt for themselves, they all sat down at a table and discussed the horrible news in hushed voices.

"Wait," Shawn said suddenly as something occurred to him about that weird poem.

"What is it?" Jedidiah asked, but he was already out of his seat and walking toward the counter.

"Hey, Frank," he asked the yogurt man as he heard Jedidiah came up behind him, "What was that thing you said in there about men becoming werewolves in autumn?"

"Ah, it is an old Welsh saying," Frank explained. "It became popular in the year 1941 after–"

"Yeah, but what is it?" he interrupted. "Could you say it again?"

"Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night," Frank recited, "May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright."

"So, does that mean that werewolves only change in fall?" he asked, hoping he was right.

"Yes," Frank answered to Shawn's delight. "Until the wolfbane dies at the end of the month."

"You hear that, Jedidiah?" Shawn said, turning around to smile at the ex-hippie. "There's only one full moon between now and winter. Once Cory's found, we can just make sure he's restrained and locked up on the night of the full moon, and after that we're home free!" _We won't have to kill him._

"I am afraid you misunderstand, young Hunter," Frank said, shaking his head as Shawn tried to figure out if he had ever mentioned his name in front of him. "The full moon is only required to bring the wolf spirit forth. Once this event is complete, the spirit lays dormant beneath the skin and can be awakened by the mere presence of the moon, regardless of its phase."

"You're saying…" Jedidiah started, but then trailed off.

"Any night?" Shawn finished.

"Every one of autumn's nights," Frank nodded.

_But… that means…_ He looked out the window to see the skies darkened. Hanging above the world, an autumn moon shone bright.


End file.
